We’re Gonna Have A Good Time With This, Dear!

Lots has certainly happened since we last spoke…

I’m “in a relationship” with a pretty amazing man.   My branding/copywriting business is going really well.   The house is almost paid off.  I broke my collarbone and have sufficiently recovered…    I guess that’s about it.

NOT

C’mon, you know what I’m talking about.  The 260lb moron in the room.  Yeah, him.

Oh, I have the same recurring concentration camp dreams that you do.   I can actually visualize the polar ice caps melting and Richmond, Raleigh and Augusta becoming prime beachfront real estate.   I know how I’m gonna feel when they take away our meds and ban free speech.   I’ve been practicing my “Praise Jesus” yell and the missionary position.  Gurl, I got all that down.

What the Asshole in Chief doesn’t realize, and what I’m just beginning to see, is that the people, you know, you and me, are not having this shit.   I saw y’all marching in DC.  And Chicago.  And LA.  And New York.  And Anniston.  And Shithole, Nova Scotia.  And that was only Day One!

He can nominate as many idiots to systematically destroy our government from the inside out, and he can rattle his sabre till the cows (and the terrorists) come home.  But you know what?  We got this.  We will prevail.

The first stop/step will be in November of 2018.  Almost a year and a half away.  This will not end will for Mr. Turtle (you know, Mitch McConnell) and the guy I’d like to fuck, hard, no lube (yep, you guessed it, Paul Ryan).  Take loads much, motherfucker?

Can you tell I’m pissed?  Damn right I am.

This is my country as much as anyone else’s.  I’ll gladly share.  Just don’t take it away from the rest of us.  This won’t end well.

You’ve been warned.

 

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Why

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photo credit © Pattie Baker 2015

Last year, I stood on a vacant construction site on the other side of town and listened to a young black man cry out in fear, anger and sadness.  The things he said and his body language spoke volumes about his existence.   He told me that the very pigmentation of his skin made him a suspect.  Or worse, a criminal.  He told me how his future, despite his education and privilege and ambition and charm, was diminished.   He told of a well-meaning white community, literally bulldozing through his neighborhood in the name of helping him and others of his same skin tone.   He cried out over the loss of so many opportunities, usurped by those well-meaning folk from across town.  He spoke of the little boys who were in jail, nothing to do but get in trouble.

I couldn’t comprehend then and I struggle to now the things he revealed.  But I see their manifestations daily.   I see hate through inaction.  I see fear through misunderstanding, unknowing and assumption.  I watch busy lives, too bothered to connect.  I witness greed, insensitivity and shrill political showmanship.

Why?  Why do we act this way?  Why don’t we stop repeating the mistakes?  Why do we behave as though we’re not the same?   Why can’t we listen?  Why can’t we be generous of our time, money, efforts, love?   Why do we kill each other?

Why.


Bloody Motherfucking Asshole

Dear Donald,

This song is for you.

Good luck in November, you are certainly going to need it.

Love,

JOHN


Finally

It’s all that and a lot more.

I’m not quite sure how I got to this point.  It seems like I’ve known him forever, that we’ve been together since day one.   And in a way, we have.   Since the first day he came into my life.   Half a century after I came into this life.   Odd, that is.

But not.

In some ways, it’s much easier.  I know this side of the court and that other side is not so unfamiliar.   I’m sure the vantage is similar from over there.

Things only need to be said once, should they require saying.   My sense of self is still intact, even stronger I think.   I understand the value of time, of patience, of waiting, of process.

He holds my hand and snores in my ear and speaks that syrupy drawl and laughs his staccato laugh and all is right with the world.   Favors are returned, courtesies given.  There’s room, space, tenderness, laughter.

And there it is.

 


Falling

It’s been a while but the symptoms…the signs, the thoughts, the stunning clarity of it all…are unmistakable.  I am falling in love.

Wow.

I mean,  I’m 51.   Thought I was done with this.  But BAM!  There it is.

Must.  Go.  Slow.

Must.  Retain.  Self.

Must.  Give.  In.

 

And awaaaaay we go!


Before Today

Wow…when you least expect it.   Let’s see where this goes.


Burn, Baby, Burn

gopdebate
Some smidgen of me wants to feel sorry for the GOP. But I cannot. Not after 8 years of thinly (and that’s generous) veiled racism against the twice-elected President. Not after attempting at every turn to block equal rights for all citizens. Not after their xenophobic worldview (look it up, betches). Not after gerrymandering in all 50 states. Not after denying women’s rights over their bodies. And especially not after flagrantly abusing the constitution for their own goals. This is what you get. This is exactly what you deserve.
Keep digging y’all, I’ll bring the shovels.
What I do feel sorry for is this once great democracy. Let’s make America great again, indeed.
Without the GOP.